


“Not surprisingly, the socks remain silent, as was their legal right.”

by notjustmom



Series: Tom Robbins Remix [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Tom Robbins, a bit Beauty and the Beast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: When the boys are away...





	“Not surprisingly, the socks remain silent, as was their legal right.”

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [“Ponožky zůstaly pochopitelně zticha, však je to jejich nezpochybnitelné právo."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956696) by [QueenMedbtheSecond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMedbtheSecond/pseuds/QueenMedbtheSecond)



If one sat very quietly, and closed one's eyes, and did their utmost to blend in with the scenery at 221B, one might be lucky enough to hear the flat tell its own history. Billy, of course, had the most to say, but you could never quite trust him, at least according to the violin, but then she was, after all, a bit deaf from all of the rough abuse over the years, and yet, she was fiercely loyal to the long fingered man. She always thought he loved her the best, until 'the doctor' arrived that one evening three months ago.

"Hildegarde, don't start," Billy tittered at her. "You know he's never played so sweetly - the lullabies must be a nice change from the screeching and it's been a couple of weeks since you have had to have your strings replaced."

"Even so." Hildy snorted and declined to say another word on the matter.

"Why are you complaining? He never takes me out anymore since he has a live friend -"

"Now, Billy..." remonstrated Mrs. Hudson as she dusted him for the seventh time that week, though it was only Wednesday, "you know it's better for him to have conversations with the living."

If Billy had still had shoulders, he would have shrugged, but he settled for a low, "hummmph, yes, I know, Mrs. H. But I do miss those times when he would talk for days about a case - the way his eyes would light up when he would put it all together, and he would pick me up, and we'd go to Angelo's...."

"Yes, dear, I know, why do you think I take you downstairs so often, I know you miss going on adventures. I know Mrs. Turner and I aren't as interesting -"

"Now, Mrs. H, I wasn't implying -"

"And what about us?" The books on the shelves quivered in chorus, "He doesn't even glance over at us any longer, he used to spend hours reading, alright, yes, sometimes he'd forget us in a strange place for weeks face down, but, at least, once in a while, he'd need us, now, it seems his doctor person knows the answers if he doesn't..."

"Now, girls," Mrs. Hudson ran her feather duster over the books, as it usually eased their nerves, books tended to be so needy, especially the older volumes, she understood how they felt, what with Google and all, they were nearly obsolete, though she would never tell them that. "You know he still needs you, why, just last week, Bitsy, didn't he need to look up that Lord something or other?" 

The Who's Who straightened up to her full height and in that posh voice that drove the newly installed spy novels around the bend, murmured, "quite right, Mrs. Hudson, but I do fear one day -"

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat, and Bitsy sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. He would never leave us behind, but - it isn't quite the same anymore, is it, Martha?"

"No, my dear, it isn't. But you have to admit, he does bathe more, and eat better, and he doesn't experiment with those nasty chemicals quite as often-"

"Or shoot at us," purred the wallpaper.

"Yes, yes, alright, shhh... I think they are coming up the stairs - maybe there's a new case -" Billy whispered, then the room went still as Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Boys!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and looked around the room, "dusting again, Hudders?"

"Just a bit, everyone does get a bit lonely ever since -" she nodded her head at John who had already gone into the kitchen to plug in the kettle.

Sherlock sighed and nodded as he slipped out of his shoes, "I know - I have been neglecting them of late. Tomorrow, I'll do some research, I have a new case that I need some help with, that should help with the nerves a bit, hmmm?"

Mrs. Hudson beamed at him and kissed his cheek. "They were a bit fluttery tonight, they just miss being useful, I think. Well, I'm off - Mrs. Turner and I are doing that paint and drink thing at the pub..." Sherlock laughed and opened the door for her, then closed the door quietly and locked it behind her. He walked over to the mantle and picked up Billy in both hands. 

"Sorry, old friend. I see she's been dusting you a lot this week already, tomorrow John has a shift and I'll need to talk this new case through with you, it could be a good one, but you know Lestrade -" He placed Billy back carefully in his place, then went over to his violin case, picked up Hildegarde and mumbled to her, "It's going to be a rough night, so I'll need your best stuff, right, old girl?" He played a bit of warm ups, then began to play the lullaby that he had started playing ever since he had realised about the nightmares. He turned as John carried in two mugs of tea and his breath caught, as the bow stuttered to a halt. It had been three months since John had moved in with his one duffle and box of odds and ends, but he wondered if he'd ever get used to John's presence. He already knew - Hildegarde cleared her throat and Sherlock rolled his eyes and began the lullaby from the beginning once more. Eventually both mugs of tea were emptied, and John had gone upstairs after a quiet, "good night." Sherlock sighed and went on to play into the early hours of the morning, when he finally laid Hildy gently back in her case, and wished her a good morning, then collapsed onto the couch and fell into a deep sleep.

"How does he not know?" grumbled Sherlock's chair.

"Wha-?" moaned the Union Jack pillow who was in the midst of a lovely dream. "Hmmmph?"

"How does the doctor not know how he feels about him?"

"Mebbe he does, could be he's just a bit afraid is all?"

"Afraid? Him? He invaded Afghanistan, and he's afraid of our Sherly?"

"He didn't invade it all on his own." The pillow snarked, and tried to go back to sleep.

"But -"

"Bernie, do me a favour - shut it?"

"Sorry, didna mean to wake you - I just worry."

"I know - just give 'em a bit o' time - things will work out as they always do."

"Yer right, yer always right."

"Course I am. Now, try not to worry yerself too much and get a bit o' rest."

"Ta, Charley, 'night."

"Night, Bernie."


End file.
